


Post Mortem

by KiokuNoOto



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Possessive Hannibal, Post-Finale, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4692563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiokuNoOto/pseuds/KiokuNoOto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story sets off at the finale of season 3 (spoilers!). It's a slow burn between Will an Hannibal, showing what happens with them after the end of the season. Both characters POVs are included in the story. It can be seen as an interpretation of how the next season could look like, with characters as close to their originals as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post Mortem

Hannibal was lying on the floor, his side aching from the bullet wound he received mere seconds ago. The wine bottle shattering was a good sign at least – it meant that the bullet went through. He may yet make it through, although that was largely dependent on the man standing in front of him.

That Dolarhyde wanted to kill him was more than certain. He resented Hannibal for manipulating him. He believed the doctor to be the only person who was able to understand him, or rather, understand what he was becoming. Now the only option available for him, or so he believed, was Hannibal’s obliteration. This was the only way to satisfy The Dragon and fulfill his transformation. Of that Hannibal was certain.

The only person who could yet change this rather unfortunate turn of events was Will. Hannibal wasn’t sure whether Will wanted to watch him being killed, maybe even participate in the act, or if he would end up helping him. Whatever hatches during this moonlit night will follow its own nature yet again… He’s done with the manipulations, with trying to show Will his potential, now it’s his turn to make a choice. He could only wish the match won’t be struck under his body tonight.

Hannibal hated losing control, if anything he was all but control, meticulously making sure that everything would go exactly as planned. To just let the events unfold and be at the mercy of another is something entirely new to him - terrifying yet intriguing at the same time. He tried to end it many times, this cycle of retribution. Feeling betrayed over and over again, his gifts cast away as something deemed unworthy. Many a times he tried to distance or even free himself from this beautiful boy – he let his encephalitis drive him to madness, let him be incarcerated, cut his gut open and even opened his brain – if it was meant to be taken away from him then why waste such a thing of beauty? Every single time, however, his hand wavered. In the end he helped Will get out of prison, had stabbed him in a way he knew wasn’t vital and postponed opening his skull, although he knew there wasn’t much time if he really intended to do it. When it came to the man standing in front of him, he was always caught in an internal battle with himself. 

Will wasn’t left far behind when it came to their violent interactions. Although the wounds he inflicted weren’t physical, they hurt all the more. Betraying Hannibal’s trust, attempting to kill him more than once and finally his plan of rejecting him. That, Hannibal thought, hurt the most. When Will came to visit him one last time and told him how he knew that if he rejected him, Hannibal would surrender easily, seemed cruel beyond measure. It almost didn’t suit this seemingly delicate creature. More than that it showed Hannibal his own vulnerability. It was terrifying and even embarrassing to a point, to see just how easy it was for the man to deceive him. Hannibal used to consider himself the master manipulator and now he was a mere puppet. When it came to Will everything was different. You can’t control with respect to whom you fall in love with….

He meant it when he said to Will, just mere moments ago, that his compassion for him was inconvenient. He meant it with every fiber of his body. Will, as was typical of him, made a snide remark about how being compassionate for a cow was inconvenient for one who was partial to beef products. If it only was so simple, then he wouldn’t be lying here, bleeding. He wouldn’t be walking in to a trap. He wouldn’t have ventured in to a lions cage, just because a sparkle of hope was telling him that the lion sleeping inside would triumph over the artificial rules meant to restrain the true hunger and instincts of the wild beast. 

He looked at him expectantly, wondering what would come out of the cage this particular night.

 

-//-

 

Will looked in the eyes of the man who seemed expectant of him. Although he tried to play it off as though the only thing he was interested in was seeing Hannibal being consumed and transformed, he knew far too well he would never be able to do that. He wanted to kill the man many times, driven by rage and the need for revenge. He wanted to have his retribution for all the times Hannibal played with his life. He wanted to hate him, detest him, see him get killed just to be free of him. Yet he knew he would never truly be capable of such a thing.

Maybe it was because of his empathy, of how he could see and understand the reasoning even behind the most atrocious acts of violence. There was always a motif behind each scene of death and never was it the simplicity of violence. He liked to believe that it was his empathy that made him justify each horrific act Hannibal had performed, but he knew it was something more than that. He tried to deceive himself, tried to avoid thinking about it, he even went as far as to create a family of his own, just to make the inconvenient thought hide deep in the shadow of his mind. Now, however, there was no escaping it. 

The fact is, Will liked the attention Hannibal gave him. No, not liked, he would go as far as to say that he adored it. It was thrilling to know that there was someone who not only admired his talents, which were normally considered abnormal, but also saw potential in him. Treated him as an equal. The fact that it was Hannibal made it all the more thrilling. The man was cunning, intelligent to the point of being brilliant, he was cultured, opinionated and could adapt easily to any given situation, any given society. How he deemed Will worthy of his full attention he didn’t know, but he liked it. He liked it to the point of being addicted to the attention so much that he considered becoming another version of Hannibal, just to see the man grow with pride at the sight of him.

At the same time, however, he grew resentful. First and foremost towards himself for giving up his true identity for an immature notion of wanting to amaze. Secondly towards Hannibal who, despite his warm words of friendship, had conspired many times to destroy him – either by hurting him directly or anyone that meant anything to him. He felt manipulated, felt like a laboratory rat being released into a labyrinth of corridors for the sheer amusement of the spectators. He was too weak to kill Hannibal himself, but he would be ok to watch. To see him being transformed by the red dragon, to be a spectator, a silent participant. He would’ve been ok will all of that, if it wasn’t for the conversation he had with Bedelia. 

In a way he resented her, because she was allowed to peer behind the veil. He felt like a jealous child who was trying to get the full attention he believed he deserved. Why was Bedelia made Hannibal’s partner in crime and was left with no scars after deceiving him, while he bled many a times? He felt bitter every time they talked and knew that she saw through him. He knew, however, that if he ever was to get any answers, it was from her. And that he got. At their last session Bedelia helped him come to a realization that terrified and amazed him – Hannibal was in love with him. Suddenly it all made sense.

He wasn’t exactly sure if Hannibal was even capable of love, or if he just created a concept of it. It wasn’t an ordinary love, not like the one his wife claimed to have for him. No, nothing was ever simple when it came to Hannibal. It was a dark, twisted love. One which manifested itself in man-made hearts, a jealous greedy love which meant to destroy everyone that came in its pathway. A destructive love which either came to fruition or had to be rooted out at the very base, killing the one it was planted in. Killing Will. It was Hannibal’s kind of love.

Knowing all of that Will could not bring himself to watch the man being killed. It wasn’t because he felt the same way, although the thought of him being the object of adoration made a tiny spark of joy rekindle in his very being. A spark he had never felt with his family. Still he would not say he reciprocated the feeling, he was not even sure how to respond to such an ominous, twisted type of love. Still he felt compassion for Hannibal, for how strongly he believed in his concept of love and how far he was willing to go for it to be reciprocated. 

By simply rejecting him, Will had power over Hannibal. The man made himself vulnerable for him and that, perhaps, was what made him devise the plan that was about to be sprung into motion… If all went well, all of this would be over tonight. Hannibal deserved it . They both did.

 

-//-

 

When Hannibal saw Will slowly going for his gun his breath stilled. There was hope growing in him with each movement Will made. So this is what he has decided then, he thought. His joy, however, was short-lived as he saw a flash of steel in Dolarhyde’s hand. There was no chance of interjecting the blow in his current state, all he could do was wince as he saw The Dragon sinking the blade into Will’s skull. He watched in disgust and contempt as Dolarhyde lifted Wills body, convulsing violently due to the immense pain, and threw it outside, through the broken window. 

Will, being the wonderful boy he was, wasn’t done fighting yet. He reached for the blade which sank deep into his bones, and pulled it out to inflict pain onto the perpetrator. He stabbed Dolarhyde in the leg, just to be stabbed soon after. The Red Dragon wasn’t one to give up easily. With clear intent Francis drew the blade from his leg and stabbed the empath straight into his upper chest. 

All the while Hannibal watched them, making an attempt to get up from the floor and help Will. He was not supposed to die like this, the Lamb was so much stronger than the Dragon. Working purely on adrenaline, disregarding the pain in his abdomen, he came through the window and grabbed Dolarhyde by the neck, just as Will received his second stab that night.

He was desperately lacking in strength, due to the inflicted wound, and was easily thrown back on the paved yard. Soon the Dragon stood before him seething with rage. Just as he envisioned his upcoming death, he saw Will gathering his strength, and charging at them with the knife he yet again pulled from his own flesh. It was a beautiful sight. Will drenched in blood, killing instinct flashing in his eyes. He inflicted a few slash wounds to the predator but was overpowered yet again. 

As luck would have it an axe, used for chopping wood during the winter season, came into Hannibal’s view as he fell to the ground. He made sure to make good use of it, cutting Dolarhyde’s tendons as soon as he got back to his feet. This allowed an opening for Will who added a few new cuts himself.

They began circling around Francis in the light of the moon, watching their pray, communicating only with their eyes. This is exactly how Hannibal envisioned it, his normal hunger growing tenfold, as he saw the beast in Will’s bloodied face. Beautiful was the only thought present in his mind. To share this moment with him was pure ecstasy, an act so intimate that it could not be shared with simply anyone. No, it could only be Will. They charged at their prey in unison, Hannibal jumping at its back, tearing the tender flesh of the throat with his teeth, as Will slit its abdomen. A truly magnificent view, an honorable death for The Dragon.

As the climax reached it’s end and they were regaining their breaths, Hannibal looked at Will wondering if he would finally let the beast out of the cage, or lock it in as soon as he was conscious of his surroundings. What a waste it would be and what a sorrow he would feel it that were to happen.

“It does look black in the moonlight” he heard Will saying, watching his hand like a cub who just had its first pray. Wondering at the sight of drawn blood.  
He reached his hand and Hannibal hoisted him to his feet. They looked at each other, expectant, waiting.

“See. This is all I ever wanted for you Will. For both of us.” Hannibal said out loud what he was really thinking. There was no time for talking about teacups and the metaphysics of life. The rawness of emotions surging through them caused by their first hunt required bluntness. The truth was all out, now it was Wills time to act.  
He saw Will smiling slightly, his ragged breath stopping for the briefest of moments.

“It’s beautiful.” 

How Hannibal had longed to hear those words. It penetrated his soul so deeply he could not give any form of answer or confirmation. He just nodded slightly, trying to get the swarm of emotions he was filling under control. Once again Will Graham was proving him to be vulnerable. For someone to finally penetrate his walls was as frightening as it was exhilarating. He wanted to share so much more with him, so many moments of intimacy in the eye of death. The possibilities were limitless.

 

-//-

 

Will said what he knew Hannibal wanted to hear. What he deserved to hear. Although some part of him felt that the uttered words were genuine. That for the first time he said what he had really felt and it terrified him, because no more was he sure where his own personality blended with that of Hannibal’s. He was curious of how their lives would look like if he allowed this to continue. Some part of him desperately wanted to, like when he wanted to run away with Hannibal all those years ago. Back then he opted for his sanity and this time wasn’t much different. He couldn’t imagine a life consisting of killing people. Killing Dolarhyde was different, it served a purpose. But when he said he didn’t have Hannibal’s appetite he was stating the truth. However more than the killing, he feared the love the man had for him and how he would never be able to understand it and respond to it in the way Hannibal wished.

Although there was still a lot of conflicted feelings he felt for the man standing in front of him, he knew that to retain at least some integrity, he could not allow this fantasy to take a hold of him. If he allowed Hannibal to live, he would never get him out of his system – he can’t live with him. Killing him was not an option as well – he can’t live without him. Dying together was different, even poetic to some extent. He also felt that this act of scarifying himself was as close as he could get to answering Hannibal’s feelings.  
He owed some kind of reciprocity to the man. At this moment though he couldn’t rely on words, so instead he opted for physical closeness. He didn’t know if this was even a part of Hannibal’s concept of love, but he was sure that it would be perceived by the man as such. Will wanted to finally let him feel accepted. 

It worked perfectly. At first he felt the tension of Hannibal’s muscles when he put his arm around the taller man’s shoulders trying to close the distance between them. When he put his head on his shoulder, he felt Hannibal reciprocating the touch with a passion and a kind of relief, signified by the relaxation of tensed muscles. Finally we can be one, is what Will felt Hannibal was thinking. It filled him with numbing pain, but there was no going back.

To truly see him and to accept him. This is what Will wanted him to feel before the inevitable, before the only option that felt right to him had to be set into motion. He took advantage of Hannibal’s momentary daze and plunged both of them into the abyss of the ever corroding bluff.

He can’t live with him, he can’t live without him. 

 

-//-

From author: This is just my interpretation of the ending, but I hope you find it plausible - at least to some extent. Also English is not my native language so I'm sorry for all the stupid mistakes I probably made. Cheers.


End file.
